My Big-Breasted Mother Stretched Out My Flat-Chested Aunt’s Sweaters

She would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for — oh, wait, she did get away with it

My mother, her two sisters, her brother, and their parents lived together in a two-bedroom apartment.

While my grandparents slept in one bedroom, and my uncle slept on the sofa in the living room, my mother and her two sisters shared a single bedroom; they even shared a bed.

My mother slept in the center, surrounded by her younger and older sisters, one on each side. Her older sister left the house for work at 7 a.m., and my mother didn’t have to be at school until 8 a.m.

As soon as her sister left the house, my mother sprang into action. She rummaged through the dresser drawers, looking for the perfect sweater.

According to my mother, her sister had exquisite taste in clothes and spared no expense when it came to those soft, soft sweaters. Since my mother was still a student with no source of income, “borrowing” her sister’s sweaters was the only way she could wear something of that quality.

Sure, my aunt was slender to the point of being underweight, and my mother was a bit curvier. But that wasn’t going to stop my mother from shoehorning her size-D breasts into sweaters bought for her size A-breasted sister.

Her sister would have killed her if she caught her.

My mother had to be very careful not to get caught. She would put on her sister’s sweater, wear it to school, and immediately change out of the sweater when she got home. My mother would fold the used sweater and pack it back into its place in the bedroom bureau, and no one was the wiser.

Fortunately, her sister always came home later than she did. So there wasn’t a problem…

There was just one problem.

Wearing her sister’s sweaters multiple times without putting them in the washer and dryer to freshen up and regain their shape left them a bit stretched out — especially in the boob area.

“Look at this,” my aunt often exclaimed while staring at one of her stretched-out sweaters in dismay. “How does this keep happening? And it’s all my sweaters, not just one of them. And it’s just in the boob area.”

My aunt brought one of the offending sweaters out of the bedroom and showed it to my grandmother. “It’s like someone stretched them out with big boobs,” she lamented, “and I don’t even have big boobs. I have small boobs.”

It was a mystery to be sure.

My grandmother, who had seen my mother wearing her sister’s sweaters on more than one occasion, remained silent. She did not crack; she did not snitch.

My mother was always her favorite.

And the mystery of the stretched-out sweaters was never solved.

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